


Kick Up a Fuss You Know You're Gonna My Dear

by orphan_account



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: A Shitty Smoke alarm, AU: They are neighbours and haven't met before, Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Domestic, Excessive use of the word fuck, Fluff, Ian can't sleep on multiple occasions, M/M, Mickey pretends he can't either, Mickey tries to be nice but isn't very good at it, Neighbourly Ian, but really he just is a light sleeper and listens for Ian, forgot that one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:13:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2530229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian moves into a new apartment and has a shitty smoke alarm, he makes a few mistakes and then he doesn't.</p><p> </p><p>Title from Smile by The Vamps (I just felt it, and my story titles are either very forward or a song lyric so,)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kick Up a Fuss You Know You're Gonna My Dear

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer  
> I do not own Shameless or any of it's actors or characters and I make zero profit off this work thanks k
> 
> I also know nothing about bipolar disorder and have had no encounters with it so I'm sorry if there are inaccuracies please don't yell at me

            Ian Gallagher wasn't very good at moving into a new place. It took him a few weeks to figure out how heavy he could walk or how long the hot water lasts. He usually got a few complaints within the first while of his stay. Because of this, he made a point of not moving unless he absolutely had to. The reason had been good this time to, not like his last couple times like he didn't like the time the mail came, or the laundry room closed too early. This time it had been because he found out his superintendent was a fucking pervert, he had peepholes in all his residents' bathrooms, Ian's included, and used them for a bit of extra cash and his own personal use. Ian and Lip beat the shit out of him and Ian found a new building, it seemed really great, honestly couldn't think of a reason to complain; permission to smoke inside, amazing water pressure, the water was heated with electricity so it didn't run out, the stove was new, all wood floor and steam mopped before he moved in, the walls peephole free, and it was in his price range. Ian jumped at the chance though was a bit suspicious as too why such a great place was so cheap, owner said he could have this apartment, because all the others were not on that floor and more expensive; that made him very suspicious. But all seemed well so he signed the lease and moved in, happy to have a place he could shower privately.

            First mistake, Ian quickly found that the smoke alarm is incredibly sensitive, so when he made eggs and bacon without opening the window, the kitchen got a little smoky and the detector in the hall started screeching at him, the red head swearing as he used a towel to fan it out and finally get the damn thing to shut up. He heard someone swear on the neighbouring balcony and complain about the noise but he paid no mind and ate his breakfast before going for a run before he had to get to work.

            Second mistake, he forgot to take his meds. All the rush of moving and settling and finding the fastest route to work from his new place, the pills that saved Ian from mania were sorely forgotten. Luckily he didn't crash and tally up more sick days on file, instead he woke up at three in the morning with way more energy than he knew he should have, making him swear as the prescription came to the front of his mind. He got up from bed and made his way to the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of water and downing what he needed before grabbing his pack of smokes and a lighter on his way back to bed. He sat up, well aware that he had a while till he went back to sleep, and lit a cigarette, trying to relax and bring drowsiness back.

            Of course that's when things would turn out to not go his way, the minimal smoke that filled his room was enough to trigger his damned smoke alarm, make him curse as he hopped out of bed and ran to try and shut it off. He finally got the incessant beeping to stop only for it to be replaced by a loud banging on his door. Ian winced and grabbed a pair of sweat pants, hopping towards the door as he pulled them on. He opened the door to see a not so happy brunette at his door in just his boxers, presumably Ian's neighbour. "Hey man, sorry about that, I was just having a smoke and forgot about how sensitive the thing was-"

            "Alright, I really don't care. Let me show you something." He grumbled, cutting Ian off and scratching his hair as he entered the apartment, pulling a chair behind him as he passed. Ian followed curiously and watched as his neighbour stood on the chair to reach the alarm and lit a lighter that had been in his hand since his arrival, using it to trigger the alarm again, quickly pressing a small red button that instantly shut off the sound. "They're sensitive but you can shut 'em up easy too. The fuck are you staring at?" He spat, watching as Ian's face changed from confusion to realization.

            "Mickey Milkovich!" Ian exclaimed, voice nothing but pleased to remember the familiar face. "I remember you, the fucking terror of the South Side, my brother Lip got with your sister a few times, it's me, Ian Gallagher." He greeted cheerfully and Mickey rolled his eyes, getting off the chair and walking back into the kitchen, not looking to see if Ian was following.

            "Yeah I know, saw your bright fucking hair from my balcony when you were moving in." He muttered, walking up to the counter where Ian's medication bottle still sat, picking up the bottle curiously, "Prescription, that's good shit; where'd you get it?" He whistled, looking at the label while Ian leant against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

            "A doctor, it's mine." He informed Mickey flatly, eyebrows raised as the shorter of the two read the details, placing the bottle back down sheepishly.

            "Shit man, that's rough, probably why you felt the need for a smoke at three in the morning eh?" He apologized, or at least tried to, it just made Ian feel stupid; three AM is a really dumb time to have a cigarette, especially if you're gonna forget to open the window. Ian just shook his head, standing up straight and putting the bottle back in the cupboard, Mickey clearing his throat as he made his way to the door. "Anyway, I'm gonna get back to bed, get some sleep man." He bid in a half assed attempted to be nice, letting himself out as Ian smiled and watched.

            "Goodnight Mickey."

It was the next evening when Ian saw Mickey again. When he was off his meds for a few days it took a while for them to kick back in, so he was pretty glad to be up instead of unable to leave his bed. He had decided, quite spontaneously, that he was tired of building puzzles and filling out Sudoku to keep his mind active, so he jumped up from the couch and dug out an old cookbook, flipping through to find something to make.

            He settled on cookies, simple but delicious all the same, and when the batter was mixed he used up a bit more of his excessive energy to make sure they were all the same size, sliding the tray into the oven. He was worried to be honest, being up usually made him very optimistic, but this time he was just restless, and anxious that he'd crash hard, or his pills wouldn't kick in and he'd been in his apartment for days before someone realized he was missing, or he'd go too up and leave town, then crash where no one could find him.

This anxiety led to his third mistake. With the way his mind raced, it made it hard for Ian to breathe, so he went into his room to try and write out his thoughts, pulling out a well used map and marking out fake road trip plans along with calculating the money he'd need for food and gas; anything to distract his mind. As a matter of fact, he was so absorbed in the activity after a while, that not only did he forget about his cookies, but he didn't notice that the smoke from them burning had set off his fire detector until it was shut off and Mickey burst into his room coughing. "What the fuck? You aren't dying?" Mickey questioned, voice the image of pissed off, and Ian's whole face flamed up red, nose crinkling at the smell of burnt cookies.

            "Sorry, I was, uh. I was planning a fake road trip, trying to keep my mind busy." He explained sheepishly, and understanding dawned on the other's face, nodding as he attempted to shrug casually. He sat on Ian's bed, looking past where Ian sat on the ground to where he was making all his plans, chuckling at how old the map looked, like a book that was well read and decades old.

            "Done this a few times then?" Mickey asked, only half interested, watching as Ian nodded and inspecting the map further before reaching forward to explain a better route, rolling his eyes at Ian's disapproval and then defending his reasoning by explaining that no one needs to see the world's largest rubber band ball. They talked like that for a while, ignoring the smell of burnt chocolate and smoke, Ian grateful to have the distraction and to spend a few hours with company that wasn't his own thoughts, Mickey reciprocated the latter.

            This is when Ian's mistakes turned into convenient accidents, though some would argue that they always were just that. He noticed how bright red the inside of Mickey's right hand was and grabbed it without thinking - maybe it was the years of three younger siblings that brought this instinct - and turned it palm up, frowning at the burns, "What the hell did you do to it?" He asked, voice unusually soft for that question with that sort of phrasing and Mickey shrugged, failing to pull it away while Ian held tight and inspected it.

            "I burnt it pulling out your fucking cookies, I thought you might have had some mental break or some shit, I wasn't gonna waste my time getting trying to find your fucking ove' glove or whatever." He explained, trying to sound as indifferent as possible while failing miserably and making Ian's chest tighten. He looked over at his neighbour, meeting bright blue eyes that were doing anything but meeting his green and watched as Mickey took in their surroundings, and then how close they were sitting and then the orange of Ian's hair and the constellations of his freckles and the shape of his lips (but only stayed on that topic for a short second).

            It was at that time that Ian opened his mouth and made the most successful mistake of his life, "Mickey, the whole time we grew up, not quite talking, on the same little league teams, walking different paths but somehow always bumping into each other-  why didn't you; why did you never have a girlfriend? Or a girl you regularly fucked; or anything like that?" He asked curiously watching with a half smile as Mickey slowly brought his eyes up to meet Ian's, swearing softly as they both seemed to lean in, falling quickly into a passionate kiss, climbing up onto Ian's bed and leaving their clothes behind.

            They laid atop Ian's sheets, passing a cigarette between the both of them in a satisfied silence. Ian laughed suddenly, Mickey raising an eyebrow but otherwise ignoring the faint chuckles in favor of the nicotine filling his lungs. "Sorry, it's just, Mickey Milkovich is gay. And he takes it." He giggled, receiving a quick swing to his gut, coughing through his laughter.

            "Yeah yeah, think you're so funny huh?" Mickey asked, dropping the bud of the smoke into the ash tray and standing up, pulling on his previously discarded jeans and looking through their pile of clothes for his shirt while Ian huffed and slid over to the edge of the bed.

            "C'mon, you know it's pretty funny." He reasoned, shoulders coming up defensively when he got no response other than the finger, "If it's worth anything, it helped me calm down a lot?" He tried again, this time Mickey laughed, shaking his head and looking up at Mickey as he made his way out the room, Ian looking back cautiously.

            "Yeah okay, anything for the fucking people." He grumbled, turning on his heel and letting himself out.

            They continued on like that for a while, it became surprisingly frequent for Ian's smoke alarm would go off. On occasion they would forget about the screeching sound, too preoccupied, and would have to shut it off as Ian hastily pulled on his boxers, face as bright as his hair when he answered the door to apologize to whoever was there to complain. It was weeks into their regular fuck-and-never-socialize-outside-of-your-apartment routine when Ian said it, probably the last thing Mickey wanted to hear, "What are we?"

            He tried to pretend he didn't hear at first, but Ian clearly wasn't having it, repeating himself louder and making Mickey scowl, "Why do we have to label it? Jesus Ian you sound like a fucking teenage girl." He grumbled, rolling his eye when Ian sulked, "Look Firecrotch, I don't really care much for statuses, can't we just enjoy what's working?" He pushed, making Ian shrug and stand up to pull his pants on.

            "I can't, I've got too much shit already Mickey. I can't pile another thing onto that." Ian explained, sounding weighed down as a reminder to take his pills went off on his phone. He shut it off angrily and left the room, dutifully taking his pills with a scowl on his face as Mickey entered the room after him, pulling his shirt down over his torso.

            "C'mon Ian, we're just, I dunno, we're just hanging out." He tried to apologize, patting Ian's back as he came to stand by him, "I'm not a feelings guy." He shrugged finding it difficult to say something as simple as 'You're my fucking boyfriend' even if it was something they both sorta knew.

            Ian sighed and nodded, "Right, well, I need to eat and get to bed because I have a fucking mental disorder and work in the morning so you should get back over to your place." Mickey signed and nodded, well aware of when he wasn't welcome and let himself out, trying a 'See ya later' and only feeling his chest tighten when he heard Ian sigh heavily before the door closed behind him.

            It was painfully obvious that Ian wasn't going to sleep well that night. He woke up numerous times throughout the night and eventually gave up on sleep for at least a little while, slipping out onto his balcony with a beer and a half smoked cigarette from earlier that evening. He relit it and took a deep inhale, holding it for as long as he could before he exhaled in the form of the word fuck. He ran a hand through his hair and looked out at the pavement beneath him, a small smile itching at his lips as he heard a cough and then a swear as he became of the presence of Mickey, he hadn't known he was there before because of separators between each balcony, privacy and all. "Hey Mick." He greeted softly, trying to keep from disturbing the night time peace that had settled in the air like the smoke had in his lungs, light but present with a calming effect.

            "Hey, uh sorry, about earlier and all." He replied, clearly having no issues with disrupting the silence of the air. Ian chuckled and leaned his back against the barrier of the balcony, putting out the finished cigarette and taking one last swig of his beer before passing it around the barrier to Mickey's accepting hand and letting out a long thoughtful breath before speaking.

            "My last apartment had to be on the ground floor because Lip caught me trying to jump off the balcony of my one before after I had forgotten to take my pills for a few days because when I do I either go up or down, that time I went down and was hospitalized for a couple months before I got the basement apartment and then I found out my super was a fucking perv that kept a peephole in my bathroom and others. Then I came here. I forgot to take my pills again and this time I was up. That's why I burnt the cookies and was planning a road trip that I knew wouldn't actually happen." Ian talked slowly, purposefully, and Mickey listened with guilt tacking on with each word, opening his mouth say something before Ian cut him off, "Sorry, my problems, and sorry for springing that on you, I have to go to bed." He excused, the sliding door shutting behind him before Mickey had the chance at a single word.

            They actually saw each other the next day, face to face. Ian was up again, pacing around the house, trying to think of a way he could take back his teenage question, how things could be how they were. Mickey heard the footsteps and got out of bed, knocking on Ian's door and not meeting his eyes when he opened it, instead lifting two beers with a small shrug, smiling a little when Ian took one and opened the door for him to come in. "Hey Ian, I know about what I said and all, that was a dick thing to do, and you've got shit and I've got shit, let's not get shit between us." He nodded and Ian sipped the beer while listening, waiting for Mickey to continue and laughing slightly when it became clear he wasn't.

            "We're good, don't worry about it, get your feelings sorted out before you come to apologize, it gets confusing if you inform me every time you think you've come to a conclusion. Just let me know when you're positive alright? Otherwise, just don't worry about it, get some sleep." He nodded towards the door at that point, both standing and Mickey not bothering to take his beer with him.

            "Okay, but I'd probably sleep better if you locked you fucking door, hear footsteps around makes me wonder if I'm gonna have to beat the shit out of somebody." He nodded and Ian laughed, clearly intending to ignore the advice.

           "Right, I've had my dick up the ass of the scariest guy in our building so I'm not really worried." He chuckled, Mickey scowling as he followed Ian who promptly opened the door for Mickey's exit. The brunette hesitated for a minute looking out the door then back at Ian before leaning in to kiss him quickly, just a bit longer than a peck before he was out the door. Ian's face was split in a grin.

            Ian had been trying to find the right medication for him for a few months before he moved in; the doctors were unsure of exactly what he needed, and he really thought that they had finally figured it out until his woke up at three in the afternoon, having shut off his alarm long ago. He found himself without the will to move, ignorant of the way his stomach ached in favour of pulling his blankets tighter around himself as he tried to ward off the thoughts that lured him to his balcony and the anxiety that was screaming at him for not going to work, glad that his boss knew that sometimes he fell and otherwise almost never called in sick.

            He stayed like that for hours, never moving, not answering the door when someone knocked and trying to shut his eyes tighter when the knocking grew more aggressive. His door was unlocked; everyone who had been in his apartment knew that, he didn't like the disconnection that locks allowed. Though the knocking did stop eventually, replaced with the click of his door shutting and then footsteps, he assumed it was Lip, Mickey tended to know when he was supposed to be home and didn't come around until then. And Ian's boss would let Lip know if he didn't show up for a few days and it could've been a few days at this rate, he had no idea how long he slept. He was surprised however to hear a different voice call out his name. Mickey's voice.

            He heard his bedroom door open and a small curse leave Mickey's lips; Ian felt pathetic, he couldn't even turn to look. All his could do was keep his eyes closed and hope Mickey would leave before he really realized how fucked up Ian was.

            Instead there was the sound off empty shoes hitting the floor and then the bed dipping before a hand came hesitantly down to rest on his arm, soft and unMickey like in its entirety. Ian instinctually pulled away but tried to ignore his brain and the feeling of muffled ears and a cotton filled throat and a static touch and leaned back, making contact with Mickey and not moving even if at first he flinches. "I'm sorry I was a dick Ian." Mickey apologized; it really wasn't what Ian expected, he didn't see any of this as Mickey's fault, he blamed himself. But then again he always blamed himself.

            They stayed like that for a few hours, and eventually Mickey got up with promise to return and came in after a while with toast and peanut butter, giving Ian horrible nostalgia if the time he had tried to get his own mom up once upon a time ago. "Not good." He shook his head and Mickey got the message, no toast. He didn't want to leave Ian alone but the man needed to eat, so he put a can of soup on to heat up, impatient as he poured it into a bowl and carried it back to Ian's room.

            The soup was hot so while it cooled Mickey had appeared to make it his task to help Ian sit up; he pulled him up right in a fashion that no one would expect from a Milkovich, letting his only sit half up, propped up by the headboard and Mickey. It took long enough that the food Mickey had prepared was cooled and he got Ian to eat only a few spoonfuls before he was sinking back down to lay under his covers, already practically half asleep and Mickey allowed him without protest, placing a gentle hand in his hair, letting it rest there as he drank the rest of the soup.

            The next morning Ian felt a little bit better and relief flooded him when he felt Mickey's presence beside him, warm and there. He blinked his eyes open and saw that the clock said eleven, so Mickey must've shut off his alarm. He shifted slightly and Mickey became ultra aware, turning his attention to Ian, "Morning." He greeted and Ian managed a half nod in acknowledgement, and for a reason that was unfathomable to Ian it made Mickey's entire face light up, nodding as he continued to speak, voice surprisingly soothing for his excited demeanor and normally aggressive tones.

            "I was thinking we get you cleaned up, start the day off right. And then instead of bed we can stay on the couch today, I'll put on whatever shows you want and I'll make you a grilled cheese for lunch and we can share it. Sound like a plan Firecrotch?" He explained and Ian felt a bit taken back by his thought out itinerary but figured no point in arguing and just nodded, making no further actions and instead letting Mickey do it all.

            Apparently Mickey didn't want any help anyway; Ian was carried to the bathroom and placed in warm water. He was washed and dried and dressed then brought to the couch where he sat while Mickey looked through his movies and picked some military based action one and sat beside Ian, closest to the armrest and pulled Ian against him. At lunch his grilled cheese was burnt and Ian only had enough willpower to make himself eat about a quarter but as Mickey ate the rest he couldn't help thinking it was the best damned thing he had ever tasted.

            They stayed within that sort of routine for about week; sometimes Mickey could get Ian at the kitchen table to eat and it made Ian feel a bit more positive with every extra bite. They were on the couch; Ian was asleep with his head in Mickey's lap and Mickey was playing with the bright red strands he had become so fond of when Lip walked through the door. He announced himself as soon as he entered so there was no time for Mickey to go on guard, only switching to a different kind of defensive when Lip came across the two in the living room. "Mickey Milkovich? What the fuck are you doing here?" He asked, accusing and harsh even though it seemed pretty obvious.

            "What the fuck do you think? I'm taking care of him with no help from your lazy ass. I was here on the first day and you show up a week later and ask me what _I'm_ doing here?" He spat defensively and Ian stirred, Mickey cursing and petting his hair trying to relax him back to sleep."I know what I'm doing, I read up on it."

            Lip looked inquisitive and Ian opened his eyes and smiled faintly at him, "Hey man, what's Mickey Milkovich doing taking care of you?" He greeted pleasantly, sitting in front of Ian and ignoring Mickey, Ian's smile grew stronger for a millisecond, but it was enough for Lip to begin to grasp it. "Okay, he doing a good job? Let me see your arms." He directed, pulling Ian's wrists out and looking impressed when there was nothing but faint scars from a terrible accident they don't talk about.

            "Man fuck off, I can take care of my boyfriend." Mickey urged, not even realizing what he said until it was too late, Ian properly smiled for a moment and Lip laughed, nodding as he stood and pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it and it was Mickey's turn to smile when Ian let out simple words that they both knew meant so much more. Words that spoke the message of, I'm not gonna be cured and they will be more times like this; but you and me, we're alright.

"Better go outside, smoke alarm is sensitive."

**Author's Note:**

> Also sorry for all those waiting on my other fic, I'm terrible at pacing and I want it to be good so I'm working on it!


End file.
